Redemption of Trust
by Chris St Thomas
Summary: Trust AU. follows Betrayal. CH 10 -"Dija see it Mommie! Did you Daddy? Grandfather Jor-El's image wore a cloak exactly like mine." Jason danced around excitedly reveling in his freshly confirmed Kryptonian heritage.
1. And the Father Becomes

Disclaimer. I still don't own anything. I am merely the humble scribe bridging gaps, connecting and extending the sagas of Alfred Gough & Miles Millar (Smallville), Richard Donner (Superman I and II) and Brian Singer (Superman Returns).

I have added in some other DC comics heros, some of them reinterpreted somewhat.

**Redemption of Trust**

Foreword

This is a continuation of "Confessions" and "Betrayal of Trust." I'm going to recapture the emotional resonance and personal relationships of "Confessions." I will try to make it clear what I'm doing plot wise, without giving too much away. I'm also going to alter my continuity structure. I need to include certain events from the Superman II: The Richard Donner Cut. While I think the director who finished Superman II had a better starting point for the story of Superman II (the hydrogen bomb in Paris, which allows for some substantial time to have passed between Lex Luthor's nuclear missile caper and the beginning of the Superman II story) in every other respect the Richard Donner Cut is far superior particularly those aspects dealing with Jor-El and Kal-El and their unique relationship as father and son.

Prologue

"Father, I love her." With this simple statement Kal-El expressed his longing for the most natural of human connections. Perhaps it was even the most natural of Kryptonian connections, considering the lengths to which Jor-El and Lara had gone to be part of his life.

His parents had recorded numerous hours of messages for him: In his mother's case dozens, in his father's case hundreds, perhaps thousands; who could be sure? Even with his heightened senses, Clark found it difficult to tell sometimes where the AI representation ended and the recordings took over. Sometimes he wondered if indeed it was merely some sort of AI representation or if it was in fact his father's spirit transcending time and space to be present with him in these moments, these moments which for the last many years had been so precious. As a teenager, he had felt these conversations anything but precious, but as he had grown, taken the training and gotten to know his father, these moments had become infinitely precious.

But now the old pain had returned. His father seemed to be demanding something totally unreasonable of him. He seemed to presenting a scenario within which there were only two possible choices, each the opposite of the other. Jor-El seemed to be saying that if he, Kal-El, loved Lois and wanted marry her, and have a life with her, Jor-El seemed to be saying that the only way Clark could do this was to give up his powers. Forever.

And so, a bit to hastily he had turned toward the red sun chamber…

"Think, Kal-El; I beg you" _his is father had urged him, prevailing upon him to turn away from the fleeting feelings of lust and passion. His father implored him with great strength and a touch of compassion to recall his training, his calling, his great mission and process this moment, this decision rationally with thought and not emotionally with feelings._

… and with all the defiance that had characterized his relationship early with Jor-El as a teenager in Smallville, Clark had floated over to that crystal molecule chamber…

"Think about this, Kal-El!" _Jor-El urged in strongest voice, earnestly desiring his son to take time, to consider carefully and weigh out the measure of the decision he was making in a moment._

… and bathed in those harnessed the red rays of the red sun of Krypton.

Those red rays had burned into him through skin, muscle, organ, sinew, and bone. The central control console, exploded and Jor-El's image looking disapprovingly from Lois to the red sun chamber and back, wavered, flashed into static and vanished. Those red rays had reorganized him cell by cell and transformed him from his hair to his very marrow. While Clark Kent walked out of the chamber in black slacks and a plain white dress shirt open at the neck, a ghostly image of Superman in crimson cape, blue tunic and kyptonian crest had remained behind, apparently trapped, feeling with his hands for a way out before he faded and dissolved into nothingness.

While all of this took place at the Fortress, the villains had come: Jor-El's mortal enemies, Zod and Ursa had found a crack in the Phantom Zone. They had found a crack ironically caused by an exploding nuclear weapon, one that had just days before been ripped out of the Eiffel Tower and hurled by Superman off into space without any further thought. Space, after all was infinite, wasn't it? What damage could a nuclear weapon possibly do in space?

It could crack open a Phantom Zone portal stuck in a very high Earth orbit—out beyond the moon, actually—since the first time Kal-El had faced down Zod, during the crisis surrounding Dark Thursday. That's what it could do. That's what it did. And Zod and Ursa found that crack and left, bringing their traveling companion Narn out with them.

They tore apart the Artimus Lunar Craft, murdered the astronauts and cosmonauts.

They burned and demolished the town of East Houston, Idaho, defeating soldiers of the U.S. First Army.

They demanded and received the surrender of all world governments, and begin to enslave the all the world's peoples.

They did all of this while Clark was having his love-tryst with Lois Lane.

And finally Clark heard President Clint Jeffery Williamson call out over television, "Superman, can you hear me? Superman, where are --" Clark heard this in a small, obscure American diner over a burger and fries, while staring at the gold band on his left hand and nursing cuts and bruises he'd sustained trying to defend Lois's honor against the groping advances of a macho truck driver, fighting for the first time in years without super strength or invulnerability.

"Come to me, Superman! I defy you! Come and kneel before Zod! Zod!!" Hearing the raving bravado of Zod, Clark raised his head and resolve hardened in his face; he had to go back up to the Fortress. "I have to go back."

"You can't go back. There's no way now." Lois wrapped her arms around Clark's shoulders and nuzzled him.

"I have to. I've got to try dammit. I've got to try something, anything." Clark spoke with quite forcefulness, "It's not your fault." Lois soothed, whispering in his ear, still rubbing Clark's shoulders. Clark turned in her direction still looking down in concern. "You didn't know something like this was going to happen." Lois soothed.

"He knew. He tried to tell me. I heard him, Lois. I just didn't listen." Clark looked up perhaps to the sky, his face awash with desperation, regret and the merest ray of hope that Jor-El, contingency planner for Krypton and Earth, had one last miracle up the sliver sleeve of his Kryptonian cloak.

And so Clark Kent trudged back over the tundra, hitching rides with snowmobile riders and ice truckers. Clark Kent climbed back up ice shelves and crystal ramparts to the approach pathway to the Fortress's central control console or rather the charred, blackened and exploded remains of this control console.

"Father, Mother," Clark called out in a loud voice as though he expected Jor-El to hear from some far off place and reply. No reply came and Clark's shoulders slumped. He looked down at his feet in shame, and spoke more quitely "if you can hear me now. I failed. I failed you. I failed myself. I failed the whole world and all of humanity." As he named off those he'd failed Clark surveyed the damage to the Fortress.

Then, his focus changed and he seemed to take in the whole world as though the exploded console were a small example of how things had gone wrong in the whole world. "I've traded my birthright for a life of submission in a world that's now ruled by your _enemies_," he spoke this last word fear and a touch of distaste. "There's nobody left to help them now, the people of the world. Not since I…" Clark looked back up and spread his arms and shouted, "Father!!!" at the top of his lungs. No sound echoed back through the Fortress. And then in the quiet Clark listened, longing straining for the merest whisper of his father's voice. And the finally he turned and stepped dejectedly back toward the ice shelf to climb back down. Then, in the quite he heard it. He heard the Crystal. He heard the Father Crystal calling to him.

Clark stooped over on all fours and scooped through the shattered and scorched remains of the control console, searching for the Father Crystal. He had to find it, the one crystal which united with the stones of knowledge, power and destiny that he and Lex Luthor and others had searched the world for so many years before. If there were answers to be had, it would contain them.

Finally, after what seemed like longer than the year he'd spent looking for the stones, finally he had found the Father Crystal. He held in kneeling, close to his chest and examined it, swallowing and screwing up his courage. Then he stood and resolutely re-inserted it into the single, solitary control chamber, all that was left of the once-great central control console.

And Jor-El re-appeared, shining gloriously, illuminated from within. At first he looked wise and compassionat.

Jor-El seemed to look at Clark, "Listen carefully, my son." Jor-El looked down as a note of sadness crossed his face. "We shall never speak again." Jor-El recomposed himself and continued with a look of benign wisdom tempered with love, "If you hear me now then you have made use of the only means left to you, that self same crystal through which our communication was begun so many years ago. The circle is now complete. You have made a dreadful mistake, Kal-El. You did this of your own free will in spite of all that I could say to dissuade you."

While Clark listened, he gathered his jacked about himself against the cold. When Jor-El paused, Clark piped up, "I ah,"

Now you have returned to me for on last chance to redeem yourself. This, too, finally, I have anticipated, my son."

Clark looked down, a tear in his eye, shoulders hunched, slumped in self pity.

"Look at me, Kal-El." Jor-El directed, sternly, and continued as Clark looked back up, "Once before when you were small, I died while giving you a chance for life. And now even though it will exhaust the final energy left within me--" he paused in response to Clark.

Clark glanced aside, looking away, out to the walls of the Fortress, "Father, no," he pleaded. He knew what his father would do now. He knew the cost. He knew that his father would be lost to him forever. In this moment it seemed more than he could bear.

"Look. At. Me, Kal-El." Jor-El commanded. His voice no louder than before, but his tone brooked no opposition or turning at all. He resumed when Clark again locked eyes with him. "The Kryptonian prophesy shall be at last fulfilled: 'The son becomes the father. The father becomes the son.'

Realization dawned in Kal's face as the full enormity of what his father meant to do took shape in his mind. He braced himself and extended a hand

"Farewell forever, Kal-El. Remember me, my son.""

And then Jor-El's brightness grew and became a shining circle. After a moment, Jor-El stepped out of the image and walked resolutely, proudly across the open expanse of the air to where his son stood on the precipice of the exploded, blackened and charred consol.

Jor-El reached out with his right hand and, uttering the final phrase, "My son," and with a look of sadness and hope, resolutely placed his hand upon his son's left shoulder. The crystals at the apex of the Fortress, irised open and sun light streamed through into the Fortress; then it focused tightly on Clark. Jor-El glowed brightly, fiercely and then the brilliance moved through Jor-El's hand into Clark's body. A shaft of golden-pure sun light illuminated Clark and combined with the glory of his father's essence as Clark stood there, feet firmly planted on the console precipice. He began to shake, from the core of his being, and to glow from within. The light tore him apart, not just down thru skin and bones, marrow and cells, but it tore him apart and rebuilt him molecule by molecule, atom by atom.

And then there was silence. Clark laid there on the floor. In the scorched remains of the control console. Spent.

And then minutes later, maybe hours, maybe just a few seconds, he sprang back up, changed back into his crimson, azure and gold uniform and flew faster than any fighter jet directly back to Metropolis to face Zod.

In the end, Superman had reversed the polarity of the red-sun chamber, bathing the villains in its power draining rays while he safely pretended to be crushed within the chamber. And he had killed the Kryptonian villains.

No sooner was all set right in Metropolis, Washington, DC, and the rest of the world, than Superman started growing the crystals to make another spaceship. He had to return to Krypton. To the Valley of the Ancestors. To the Temple of the Elders. Or to whatever broken and blasted remains he might find.

He could have tried from the Fortress. But the proper way to do it was from the Temple. In the Valley. On Krypton or whatever had survived the Nova explosion of its sun. And there he must go. Across sixty-eight light-years of space. In a tiny ship grown and linked together of charged crystals. It would take time to cross that sea of space in the only ship he could build in the Fortress with out access to proper construction facilities to build a proper star ship. But this is what Kal-El would do. For his father. After what his father had done to restore his powers, Kal-El could do no less.

To Kal-El, flashing between the stars in that tiny ship at many times the speed of light, it seemed that just over five months passed. For all those left behind on earth, well over five years passed.

Chapter One

There was blackness.

_My son, you do not remember me. I am your father, I am…_

There was the nothingness of non-awareness.

_When he was possessed by Zod, I was possessed with all the knowledge of your father…_

There was the blackness of dreamless sleep.

_Once when you were small, I died giving you a chance for life on another world. …And now, though it will exhaust all my remaining energies… Farewell my son. Forever._

Awareness flooded in. He took a sharp sudden breath.

_This body became an oracle of Kryptonian knowledge, and a vessel, if ever my direct intervention should be required by you ..._

Before he opened his eyes and saw the liver spots on his hands, he listened. He heard small rodents chattering in the walls of the wine cellar in the basement. He heard the fluttering of an eagle 300 meters over the forest outside the mansion. He listened for the heart beat of his son, which he could not hear for his son was off-world attending to an asteroid on a collision course. But he did hear another heartbeat that almost sounded kryptonian. He heard the beating of a small kyrptonian-human heart a few kilometers away on the far side of the hamlet. The heart beat accelerated and the breathing as well, he could hear the fear toxins reacting in the blood stream.

…_or your heirs. But how am I back among the living at all? This question shall be for later. I have a grandson! And he requires my assistance._

He leapt out of bed and threw the silk sheets neatly down across it. He felt the frailty of the bones, the weakness of the ligaments and joints. He would not be able to use the full array of his powers. He'd have to be careful about changing speeds and feats of strength, but his grandson was in jeopardy.

He would do what any grandparent would: everything he could. A quick look across town with his telescopic and x-ray vision confirmed what he already knew from the sounds: he would certainly need some help on this one. A glance in the mirror showed the grayed hair, laugh lines and crows' feet of Lionel Luthor's face, but the twinkle in the eyes was unmistakably Jor-El.

A thousand miles east at the Amazon Consulate in Metropolis, Lois Lane tossed and turned but did not sleep. Finally she got out of her bed and walked over to the desk where another of her articles sat begging to be admired. She picked up the newspaper. She should be proud of this. It was page one, "above the fold." But for the first time in about a decade, it wasn't in the Daily Planet.

The headline read: "Superman Murderer!" in twenty-eight point block-faced type. It was in the Metropolis Inquisitor, what amounted to a tabloid gossip sheet. She thought she'd never write for this rag again. Oh, it was now nationally circulated. And it probably had as great a circulation as the Daily Plant. But it was what bored housewives read in the checkout line at the market. It wasn't a serious paper. It wasn't the place for Pulitzer Prize winner.

How did she end up here? No not at the Amazon Consulate for the Spa Weekend that Diana had promised. How did she end up back in the Inquisitor? How did she get so angry at Superman and Richard that she would write something like the piece of trash yellow journalism that labeled Superman a murder without even bothering to confirm his alibi?

She found out that Superman had stolen the memories of four days of her life. This knowledge had driven her into the red of smoldering anger. Superman had taken the days of romance when they'd left the assignment in Niagra Falls for lunch in Rio and dinner in Paris. He took the days when they'd gone to the Fortress. He had taken the days when he'd fought and defeated General Zod, his acolyte Ursa, and their traveling companion Narn, and Lex Luthor. But what really burned her was that he had taken their passion, their lovemaking; he had stolen the night when Jason was conceived. Superman had stolen the memory of the consummation of their months and years of roof top meetings, afternoons in the rain forest, evenings on the French Riviera, breakfast in the Rockies. Superman had stolen away the knowledge that he was Clark and that he was Jason's father. He had taken these memories mere hours after Zod was defeated; just weeks before he had left.

The knowledge that Superman had taken the memories burned her more than his five year absence. She had come to terms with him being gone. She had wrestled with her feelings for months while Jason learned to walk, cut his teeth and entered school. Her inner conflict had produced the column: "Why the World Doesn't Need Superman." She had finally won her long coveted Pulitzer.

She hadn't even known she was pregnant when Superman had stolen the memories. Maybe he didn't know that she was carrying his child either. She began to cool off. Maybe even he couldn't fly 136 light-years round trip to Krypton and back in a few days. Maybe even Superman had limits to his power.

But why had he gone away?

He had told her that he'd gone to see if there were other survivors of Krypton's destruction. This was true as far as it went. But Superman had told Richard about having to come to terms within his killing Zod.

Somehow this didn't seem to be the whole truth either. He could have gone to Krypton any time he wanted to, before he even began his career as Superman. He could have wrestled out his own internal agony over the death of Zod in the Fortress with his Father.

Wait a minute. She remembered he had given up his powers with the intent of marrying her and living out his life as simply Clark Kent. And yet here he was back flying around saving space shuttles and airplanes, lifting tons of rock and crystal into space.

Maybe the spaceship pilgrimage to Krypton had been to restore his powers? No, that didn't track either. He'd fought that huge battle with Zod and his acolytes in the skies above Metropolis before he left. How did he get his powers back during that missing four days? What had it cost, besides a walk back across the frozen tundra? And who had paid that cost?

Now there was a story.

Lois's phone rang.

It was Jason. Scared out of his mind. Fighting some huge thing that looked like Clark wearing a Dracula costume.

Lois took a deep breath. She wanted to jump through the phone and whack whatever that was out there upside the head. There were rumors of a member of the Titans who could do that sort of thing, travel across the telephone lines. "Calm down, Munchkin. Tell me about it."

Jason was breathing hard, panting like he'd just had a workout, but he didn't need his inhaler. "It isn't Father. It looks like him," pant, pant, "and smells like him." Pant, pant, pant. "But it doesn't move like Father and it doesn't have Father's eyes." A shotgun blast sounded in the background. "Father isn't answering his phone. Can you help, Mommy? Can you call Uncle Bruce or Aunt Diana? Do you have a cell number to that Space Cop with the magic green ring?"

"Yes, Munchkin," Lois spoke soothingly, "Mommy will help. Mommy knows some people. I'll call the General. I'll call Diana. I'll get you help, son."

"Wow, Mommy, that was fast." Jason sounded impressed. "An old man with long grey hair just ran up in a white robe with Father's S in black on his chest." He sounded calmer, more at peace.

"Do you know his name, son?" The line was absolutely quiet on Lois's side.

"Yes, Mommy. He didn't say it out loud but I know its Jor-El. I hear his voice in my heart."

Halfway across the country in upstate New York, Green Lantern, Batman and a blonde Amazon, decked out in full Amazon battle armor, were all engaged in a pitched battle with a Superman look-alike who was single-handedly tearing up an entire Army Division. Small-arms, mortars and even direct-fired light artillery would be quite ineffective against this Bizarre Imposter. If they'd had live ammunition. But as it stood, the US Army's 10th Mountain Division was out on maneuvers, training by fighting against each other, like laser tag. They had no live ammunition, only blanks. And they were completely unprepared to fight a crazed superman clone.

Wearing a heavily-armored, powered exo-suit, Batman fought the Bizarre Imposter clone fist to fist, punch for punch and kick for kick. The Amazing Amazon helped the medics, loading heat vision burn victims and casualties the Bizarre Imposter had torn limb from limb into Army Blackhawk helicopters. Green Lantern shielded the troops and the helicopters from the clone's laser-like heat vision.

The Bat bobbed and weaved dodging punches and kicks like a prize fighter. He connected with a fair number of his own blows as well. The creature staggered back for a moment.

The Bizarre Imposter caught the Bat off guard, as one of the creature's uppercuts connected with the Bat's armored midsection. The punch lifted him up into the air, carried him over a hundred meters and slammed him down into the wreckage of a Striker light armored vehicle that looked as if it had been ripped open and torn apart by hand.

The Amazon saw the Bat arc through the air over the helicopters where she was helping with the wounded. She gently strapped the last of the injured she was carrying into a Blackhawk helicopter and then leapt out of the passenger bay and dashed across to the Bizarre Imposter with a battle cry. She strapped her shield across her back and took the creature on with two swords. She cut; she slashed; she made the Imposter back up.

The creature tried to fight back with punches and kicks. The Amazon ducked, dodged and feinted, avoiding them. The Imposter fought back with heat vision. She deflected its blast with her gauntlet and then turned the heat beam back on the creature's own face. Blow after mighty blow, she landed on the creature's face, arms, legs. The Amazon might have succeeded in giving it a hang nail.

Green Lantern wanted to join the fight. But he knew the shields he maintained around the helicopters, the vehicles and the soldiers required too much concentration. Then it occurred to him, why spend so much energy shielding everything else from the Bizarre Imposter's striking out with its powers? Why not instead lock the creature within a containment sphere and confine the effects of heat vision and super-breath within the sphere as well? Kyle Rayner queried his ring: could it make a sort of "momentum gel" which would absorb and nullify the Bizarre Imposter's strength and speed while also reflecting back at it any heat vision or superbreath attacks? The ring's answer: Of course.

The Bizarre Imposter just then gave a mighty burst of superbreath and blew the Amazing Amazon and her swords back across the clearing to the tree line. Immediately, GL closed his fist and the sphere of "momentum gel" locked around the creature. The more it lashed out, the thicker the gel grew.

As Batman came to, he heard a call over his suit radio on a Titans frequency.

At the same time that Green Lantern's ring alerted him to trouble in the nation's heartland. A misty image of a man's face appeared in the air in front of him. It looked a lot like Superman, with the same S-curl, but older. "I am Jor-El, sometime Chief Astronomer of the planet Krypton, member of the Council of Elders and Engineer of the Guardians. I designed that ring you're wearing. And the battery that charges it. I require assistance."

The Amazon asked about GL's signal.

"It's an alert from Kansas," the Rookie replied, "somewhere called Smallville. Never heard of it."

And then Chloe's phone chimed with the ring reserved for Lois Lane. "Kinda, busy here, cousin."

"Chloe, Diana's halfway around the world in the Middle East negotiating the release of some British sailors captured by the Iranians. She can't get there in time. I need you to hop in that in that invisible jet of yours and fly back to Smallville --."

"Jason." The Amazon said pocketing her phone.

"What?" the Emerald Squire asked.

"We've got re-enforcements coming," the Bat replied thinking GL was talking to him. As he pulled himself up to his feet and began to lumber back into the fight. "Steel is on his way up from the Titans' sea floor kryptonite recovery project, about done cleaning up one of Superman's messes and now there's already another." Throwing a straight right into the Bizarre Imposter's chin, he added, "The Martian is coming, too."

"I'll take the call in Smallville," the Amazon announced "I know my way around there."

"Okay," The Bat declared. "The rookie and I will make it without you for a few minutes until Steel and the Martian get here."


	2. Batzarro am kidnap Jason

Disclaimer: Me no am own anything owned by someone else. Me am own me ideas though.

A/N: Take two for combining emotion with action. Let me know how I'm doing here.

Chapter Two Checking with Jason, Martha, Ben and Batzarro

While Superman was off in the silent void of space making another run at slowing down the asteroid that was on a collision course with earth (so that it would eventually fall into the sun), a knock had come at the front door of Martha Kent's farm house late at night. Ben Reilly had woken up from where he was sleeping soundly on living room couch. Gathering his wits and his robe about himself, Ben flipped on the living room light. Then he put on his glasses and his slippers to walk over and answer the door. He opened the inner door and looked out through the screen door.

The figure at the door, standing partially in shadow, looked like Superman. Ben had seen the huge red and yellow S-shield clearly but the figure's head had been obscured in shadows. "Why Superman," Ben began perfectly relaxed. He'd been with Martha and Jason, except for trips out for food, since Clark had dropped the lad off. They had not been watching the news. Ben didn't know about the young mother in Metropolis or the three MPD cops in the hospital. "What brings you out here in the country in the dark of night? Come on in and set a spell. We'll put on some coffee or something.'" This was Ben Reilly: old, tired but still folksy and charming even, in the middle of the night.

The figure had stepped into the light, "Me no am Sooperman. Me no am World's Worst Detective. Me am Dark Knight."

"Is that why you've got a Dracula costume on over your uniform?" Ben squinted through sleep-addled eyes. Who was this? What was going on here? "Are you pretending to be that vigilante from Gotham City?"

The tall muscular figure wearing the Superman costume with black cape and cowl replied, "Me no am pretend. This am serious. Me no am lose small boy." Peering around the figure asked, "Where am small boy? Me am take small boy to Luthor."

A light showed down the stairs. Martha Kent knew that her son was hundreds of thousands, if not dozens of millions of miles away right now. But that voice downstairs…she called out, "Who is that down there, Ben?"

Ben turned partially toward the stairs still keeping the tall costumed figure in view. He had suddenly come fully awake and his mental weird meter started moving toward the high numbers as he called back, trying to keep his voice even, tensionless, "Martha, what we seem to have here is a confused Superman."

"What do you mean by confused?" Martha was now completely awake as well. If it was just some local in a costume, Ben would have said that. He'd have the kid sitting at the kitchen table with a pitcher of milk talking about fishing, or crops or baseball by now. Ben was great with people, especially young people. But he didn't say a kid in a Superman costume. Something about the bearing and manner of whoever was down there made Ben take that person seriously. But that person was not her son. As far as Martha knew, for all her son's many gifts, being in two places at once was not one of them. The hair stood up on the back of her neck as she poked her head out from the top of the stairs, she, too, wearing a housecoat.

"Well, first, he's talkin' differ'nt. Second, he's dressed up like Dracula and says he's the Dark Knight." Ben tried to sound calm, tried to keep the tension out of his voice

"Dark Knight no am confused. Me am find small boy and take to Luthor. Luthor am be very happy with Dark Knight," the huge costumed figure's chest swelled and it pointed at itself proudly with the thumbs of both hands.

Ben Reilly drew himself up to his full height, "Look here young man, I'm sure the Widow Kent will gladly offer a great person such as yourself some coffee and donuts even at this late hour, but her grandson goes nowhere."

"This no am going right," still standing just inside the door way, the figure snatched up a hat stand that was next to the door and leaned the stand back over its shoulder like a fighting staff. The stand found its way back out the door, but when the black-caped figure brought it back over its head to smash down on the puny man in classes and robe, the stand smacked the overhead door jamb and broke like a tooth pick.

As the legs and few remaining inches of the hat stand cut through the air toward Ben, he cowered, crouching as low as he could. The remains of the hat stand missed him by a good eighteen inches or more and Ben started to say, thank Heaven, but then an idea struck him. Turning toward the couch, he reached under it and grabbed the rifle. While the huge man was staring at the remains of the hat rack with a puzzled look in his eyes and his mouth open, dumbstruck, Ben took aim doing what he could to protect Martha and Jason.

Back upstairs, Martha was quietly rousting Jason. Even though he was Clark's son and already beginning to manifest some of Clark's powers, he was barely old enough to go to school. Martha felt very protective of this young boy. She silently prayed that what yoga and manual farm work she and Ben still did on her property and his, too, left them limber and strong enough for the coming activities this evening. The last thing Jason needed tonight was for one of them to pull a hamstring or break hip. She took his meds from Clark's old night stand and some clothes from under the bed scooping them into the lad's book bag. Martha began to move the lad along toward the door of Clark's old room and the window at the end of the hallway. She seemed to recall that Clark and Lana and Chloe had climbed in and out through this window in various combinations years ago. Another prayer went up that the ivy covered wooden cross work outside the window would still hold them.

"What's going on Grandma?" Jason asked sleepily.

"We have to leave." Martha spoke as calmly as she could. Jason was about six, getting him out of sorts on his first visit wouldn't do.

"Why are we going out the window?" Jason asked groggily. As he heard the voices from downstairs, he perked up, "Is that Father's voice downstairs?"

"Take a look son." Martha spoke cautiously still moving Jason toward the window, opening it slowly, hoping it wouldn't creek too much. "What do you think?"

"I can't see through walls yet Grandma," Jason answered matter-of-factly, "just cardboard boxes and wastepaper baskets."

"Then listen." Martha now stood very still.

"That sounds like Father's voice, but it's not like how he talks." Jason spoke very thoughtfully, standing very still while he listened even more intently, "The heart sounds like him, but not the breathing." Suddenly he turned away from Martha and the window. "The Bad Bald Man sent him. You have to go, and Mr. Ben, too."

Martha kindly and patiently put a hand on the young man's shoulder, "Son, I don't want you to throw my piano at the monster down there." She spoke lovingly and with humor, "I can't just buy another like the Bad Bald Man." Then her tone took on more firmness, "I need your help to climb down the side of this here house to the trucks. We'll take Mr. Ben's; it has a phone in it. We'll get Mr. Ben at the back door."

Jason turned back to her. His expression signaling acceptance, "Where will we go?"

Martha spoke with the tired determination that only an aging widowed farmer can muster, "We just have to get to the Kowachee Caves, son. Your grandfather, Jor-El, built a portal there that leads to your father's Fortress. We'll be safe there."

"What's a portal?"

"It's like a Star Trek teleporter." Martha replied moving again.

"Oh. Okay. Wait a minute, Grandma. Your joints don't look like Mom's and Daddy's. You won't make it through that window." Jason grabbed the frame of the open and ripped it out of the wall, creating a much larger opening. He saw how the tree branches had grown close to the house and had an idea of his own. "Hold on to me, Grandma, like a piggy back ride."

The older woman grabbed on to Jason with her arms and held his hips with her knees. She kept her feet up off the floor. Jason took three steps and jumped out to the tree branches where they were thicker. He caught a branch with his arms. "Wow. Don't tell my Mom. She doesn't let me climb trees."

"Jason I can hold myself for a few seconds. You drop down to the ground and then catch me."

Jason let go. The rifle went off in the living room. Martha fell. Jason landed, braced himself with his knees bent to absorb the shock and caught her.

Jason heard Mr. Ben scrambling for the back porch. The lad and Martha climbed up into the cab of the pickup truck. She cranked it up and drove over to the kitchen door to pick up Ben. Ben fired the rifle again and the stepped from the top step into the bed of his truck. As Martha pulled out, he rummaged around in his truck box for more ammunition and reloaded. Rather then cut out back around the barn and into the farmland, Martha drove around by the front porch and waited until she saw the thing come out the front door. She drove over a real estate 'sold' sign leading the behemoth away. She didn't want it tearing her house up any more. After all, she had a contract on it.

As they sped away up the rural road toward the Kowachee Caves the monster caught up to them in three strides. Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw Jason on the phone and wondered who he could be calling at this hour? Would 9-1-1 do any good against something like this? It grabbed onto the side of the truck bed, keeping pace with them. Ben aimed the rifle at the thing's hand a fired again. The thing wasn't injured but it did let go and slow down bit. It still seemed to be startled and need to examine itself.

Ben leaned around toward the driver's window and called to Martha, "Why don't you head into town? At least the Sheriff's Posse can slow this thing down."

"We're going to the Kowachee Caves." She answered simply

"What's there?" Ben wondered what could possibly be in a historic Native American site that could possible

"Family secrets," she put the window up.

Ben turned back toward whatever the huge thing was that was after them and held the rifle at the ready. He started to review the situation in his mind to try to organize the facts and figure out how to best help Martha and the boy. A "man" looking very much like the photos he has seen of Superman in newspapers and on TV, from the chin down anyway, comes to the door late at night, but wearing a black Dracula cape and some kind of strange cowl. And why was "Superman" or "Dark Knight" talking like that? Ben got to the first question when the whole situation took a hard right turn straight into the Twilight Zone: Lionel Luthor ran up on foot from behind them wearing a grey robe with Superman's "S-shield" on it in black. He began to pace the truck.

Next thing Rod Serling's voice would ring out in his ears. He had to be dreaming.


	3. Jor El posesses Lionel to save Jason

I am Jor-El.

How I am here again in the flesh, I am not sure.

My last memories are jumbled. That is to say, I have several last memories.

I remember many decades ago harvesting the last of the charged and programmed crystals and placing them in my son's ship as his mother Lara laid him in the acceleration couch and swaddled him with his red, yellow and blue blankets. We were sending him to Earth, to Humanity. Many, even among us on Krypton, thought that our civilization had grown cold in its embrace of science. Perhaps many among us had turned away from emotion. We lived tremendously long lives. We rarely had children. But Lara and I were different. I had hired her as a research assistant in my laboratories. She had demanded equal credit in all our joint endeavors. Eventually we aroused such passions within each other that we married. And we had a son: Kal-El.

I loved my planet, my civilization. I believed that I did. Until my wife Lara showed me true passion. And I believed that I loved her until my son, Kal-El taught me the true meaning of love. For him I would transcend time and space.

I remember speaking with my son in the Fortress in this very same body some many years ago when all his bodily functions had ceased and he lay at death's door step. I brought him back then using the energies of another. I had grown to love the people of son's adopted world much as I had loved my old Krypton. They can be a great people-- they wish to be; they lack only the light to show the way. This is was why I sent them Kal-El, my only son. This is why I could not allow him to perish from his own bullheaded mistakes and the brash criminal irrationality of a desperate human being who wanted to rid his town of all those he thought of as freaks. According to the medicine of Earth, my son was dead. But we Kryptonians are a hearty people. With six lungs, two hearts, four kidneys and impenetrable skin we can survive in the raw vacuum of outer space for as long as half an hour. According to Kryptonian medicine my son was not dead. Not quite. To complete his great mission on earth, I would borrow the energies of another, one who would gladly give his life in exchange for my son's as I did once before when he was small.

I remember speaking with my son here in this Fortress just a few short years ago. Disembodied, I did briefly bend the timespace barrier and touch my son, to infuse him and restore his powers when he gave them up for Lois Lane. I exhausted all the energies that at work within me in the process. I thought that I would die the final death restoring his powers. I thought that I would never again see another moment of consciousness. But my son must have been successful in his great undertaking, in his pilgrimage across the stars to Krypton, or what remains of it, of our home world.

Here I am. Again, borrowing the aging human body of Lionel Luthor, infusing it with some limited Kryptonian powers. I have a grandson, now. I love him almost as much as I love my own son. My goal is to save my grandson. The threat is a twisted clone of my son. It has all his powers, none of his weaknesses, and very little of his character or consciousness.

The Bizarre Clone cannot be reasoned with.

The Bizarre Clone feels that it must bring my grandson to someone called Luthor. This must be Lionel's son. My son Lex, who was possessed by Zod a few years after I stood over Kal-El in the Fortress, bringing him back from death's doorstep.

I believe that Zod may lie dormant within Lex as I have lain dormant within Lionel these several short years. BrainIAC, Zod, and Lex may have plans for young Jason White. Awful plans. Plans that I must defeat. I have called for assistance from the Green Lantern of this sector. Though how long it will take him to arrive remains to be seen.

As I run across the hamlet of Smallville, I hear my grandson, Jason White using a primitive cellular device to access the planetary telephone grid and contact his mother. I hear him asking for help from Aunt Diana. I see in his mind the image of a great lady warrior. I hear him ask for help from Uncle Bruce and the Space Cop with the magic ring. Lois Lane promises help.

As I approach the vehicle in which my son's adoptive mother has chosen to flee with my grandson, I see the threat. I know that the bones and ligaments of this body are far too frail for me to engage the threat directly. I can get my grandson and his friends to the portal in the Kowachee Caves, but I will require someone else to distract the threat. I hope that the Green Lantern of this Sector, 2814 as the Guardians of the Galaxy called it, arrives soon.

Instead of the hum of a Lantern Power Ring, I hear the rush of a turbofan jet engine. A glance around and all my powers of perception cannot detect anything other than the sound. And then I hear a battle cry and I see a blonde Lady Warrior dressed in a helmet, and armor, wearing a red and blue cape with white stars, carrying a shield and two swords. She streaks down from the sky and slams the threat to the ground. I leap under the vehicle and lift it into the air to carry it to the Kowachee Caves, to the portal, to the Fortress, to safety. I look down upon the brave Lady Warrior who now provides the distraction I needed. I see through the armor. I see a young woman Lionel knew many years ago. I see Chloe Sullivan. I see a woman who loves my son as much as I loved Lara. It is my hope that she survives this. It is my will that she survives this. But my will doesn't seem to carry the weight on this world that it once did.

S


	4. Chloe fights off Batzarro to help Jor El

Disclaimer: Many of the characters and settings in these stories are the property of others (Warner Bros., Bad Hat Harry Productions, et al.) or are used ficticiously. Some of the ideas and most of the plot points are my own

A/N -- Thank you good reader for the warm reception of this new section of the Trust Saga. No applause, don't throw money, just send reviews. A line or two is all it takes.

Chapter Four: Chloe and a Friend's Devotiion

My name is Chloe Sullivan.

I was Clark Kent's side kick long before the whole boots and cape thing, and rumors of my death have been exaggerated. But not by much.

Everyone thought I died on September 11th, 2001 covering a business story at the World Trade Center. I actually swapped that assignment -- off the books and without permission -- with a travel writer for a cruise ship story in the Aegean Sea. The ship sank, and I washed up on the shores of Paradise Island, Themyscaria, Island of the Amazons. I had no memory of anything before that day washing up on the beach: complete retrograde amnesia. I remembered how to speak. I knew that George W. Bush was the President of the United States. But I had no idea who I was. None at all. Until a few days ago when Diana, Crown Princess of the Amazons, asked me to attend the Pulitzer Prize Ceremony with her and a small honor guard of Amazons. There I saw Clark Kent in a tux. And it all came rushing back to me. My mother disappearing, my father raising me, Clark, Lana, Lex, Oliver, Watchtower, Boy Scout, Superman; everything came back in one moment of crystal clarity. No wonder I hadn't formed in serious relationships with any of the Amazons: some part of me knew I was still in love with Clark Kent.

I'm currently fighting a Superman clone with swords. No, no. I've got the swords; and it has, well, all of Clark's powers and a cheap costume shop imitation Batman cape and cowl over an older version of Clark's Superman uniform. No, I'm not taking on the one in Upstate New York, where the Space Cop and the Bat are waiting on Steel and the Manhunter from Mars for back up. No. Not me. I'm way out in Lowell County, Kansas. I'm fighting alone, just me and my swords and my Amazon Battle Armor, outside my old stomping grounds in Smallville.

Thrust. Perry. Block. Bring both of the swords around and…no wait. It's trying to focus its eyes and concentrating very hard. Heat vision must be coming! I toss one of my swords high into the air and bring up a highly polished gauntlet. I hope this works out like when Diana does her thing with bullets. Heat beams are bouncing off the gauntlet!! Now if I can just twist it right. No! Not the power pole!! Let me just move the gauntlet a little bit more.

The clonething shouts, "AAAACCCCHHH!! That no am tickle. Girl am bounce me eye lasers back in face. That do it. Now me am take off gloves." The clone actually pauses and begins to remove his black fanged gloves, gloves that look like a costume shop imitation of the ones the Bat wore in Upstate New York. "Me am no more mister nice…." The clone drones on, but I saw Jor-El before I jumped out of the Invisible Jet to knocked the clone over. Catching the sword, I glance behind me and see Jor-El flying off with a truck over his head, carrying Martha and her friend and a small boy who takes after Lois, but has Clark's eyes. Jason.

Jason.

I'm not here because my cousin, Lois Lane, Jason's mother, called me. I'm not here to prove anything to myself or to my Sisters. I'm here distracting this Batzarro Imposter, to let Jor-El get them to the Portal in the Kowachee Caves. I'm here for doing this for Clark, the one man I have been in love with since the eighth grade.

The day I met him, Clark was a little bit awkward, a bookish type. He hadn't had his growth spurt yet. He certainly couldn't outrace speeding bullets or change the course of mighty rivers. But he was kind and considerate. He showed me around the school like I was the only one in his world. And yet he seemed to know everyone. The jocks somehow didn't push him around at lunch or make him carry their trays. The garage band stoners flipped him a CD. The theatre people wanted him to run the sound board for their next play. Even the popular girls, and the cheerleaders greeted him in the hallways. He was the friendliest guy in school. The sweetest, most sincere guy on the planet, the one who always saw the good in people, who saw and believed in qualities they didn't even recognize in themselves. He even read my articles and introduced me to the newspaper sponsor. I don't know where the milquetoast who tripped over his own feet at the Daily Planet came from, but that's not the guy I knew in high school.

I loved him from the first day I saw him, before cape and boots, before he lead the Smallville High Crows to win the State Football Championship, back when he ran a slow 40 yard dash, and could hardly long jump five feet much less leap tall buildings in a single bound.

Oh, God! Girl, get back to the present! That clone has gone and ripped a road sign right out of the ground. He's swinging it. Duck. Let it go over my head. Now! Palms flat on top of the swords and whip those legs around while he's off balance and take his legs out from under him. Yes!! And back up in fighting stance: Both swords at the ready, pointed at him: one low, the other high.

In a flash he's back up on his feet. This must be how Neo felt the first time he fought Smith in the subway in the first Matrix move. Dodge the subway train and Smith just steps right out, hair combed, new glasses and full magazine in his sidearm.

The monster is drawing in a huge breath, even sucking the air out of my lungs. Oh, Heaven help me! Now it's blowing it right at me. I can't stand against this. I'm flying backward. Swords gone. Shield flying away. Cape blown off. Helmet bouncing down the black top. All I've got left is my Amazon battle armor and my black leather jacket. Queen Hippolyta would really be impressed with me now. And Atremis my swordswomynship instructor.

Here goes! I'm getting back up for some just plain kung-fu. Get my legs under me. Try to stand up. Oh. No. That thing is leaping right over me. It's got the metal pipe the with the road sign. It's ripping off the road sign. Thwack!! I'm down on my back looking over at the sign sticking right out of the black top next to my head. Kansas Rout Nine. Imagine that. Oh! Shiiii! Crack!!! Why am I bothering to wipe the concrete dust off my face from where the Bizarre Imposter wearing Clark's old uniform under some kind of costume shop Batman outfit just smashed the bulb of concrete off the bottom of the signpost? Oh womyn! There it goes up in the air. The end of the signpost is coming straight down for me. My life is flashing before my eyes. My finger tips brush past that lantern shaped lapel pen the Space Cop gave me. I hope this qualifies as sanctioned combat! OurFatherwhoartinheavenhallowedbethyname. Try to roll. Sch'maIsraelAdonai-ElohanuAdonaiEcha—AAAAAAAA!!!!!

My eyes swim back into focus. Short dark hair, and black sunglasses, a long black trench coat over black shirt, black pants and black boots. Very tall, about six foot four. A tear in his eyes. He's dressed like Neo, but that face, it's Clark. It's Clark! I'm not Dead! I'm Alive!!

"Hey, Clark, are you going to get back down here and pull this pole out of me or do I have to do it myself?" I can barely speak through cracked and blood stained lips.

His face begins to brighten. I can see in his eyes that he's processing something. Now relief and joy flood his face.

The Last Son of Krypton again kneels next to the Newest Amazon and looks over me with joy and pain fighting for control of his face. "How?" was the only word he could get through his lips.

I slowly raise my left hand to the black leather lapel of my jacket and fingered a lapel pin that resembled Green Lantern's Ring. "Green Lantern Express." I say weekly. "Don't leave home without it."

"What?" Superman asks, confused.

"It's a Lantern Corps reserve charge," I whisper through cracked lips with a bruised face. "It protects the bearer against mortal injury while engaged in sanctioned combat." I struggled to smile and reached up tentatively to take his hand.

"Oh," the Man of Steel says as though he understands completely. His face speaks volumes though his voice says very little: He is sure it will make sense later. Right now all he knows is that his friend and confidante is alive and feelings of relief and gratitude to that Highest of Powers who worked in mysterious through alien science to save his …friend. Somehow the word friend doesn't do justice for the feelings he has right now. He looks sure that this, too, will sort itself out later.

"Clark, how about a hand with this pole, huh?" I ask.

"Oh, right." He blurs for an instant and hands me a popsicle stick. "Here, bight down on this." Then he takes the pole and yanks it out of me. I collapse in a heap, faint from the pain. Then Man of Tomorrow gives me a hand up.

"Fire up the portal, Son of Krypton." I say, "Let's go see your family."


	5. Richard White: Recalled to the Air Force

While Kal-El, Chloe Sullivan, Jason White, and Martha Kent were up at the Fortress having a family reunion of sorts with Jor-El, Richard White sat in his office staring at his computer screen. Orders. From the U. S. Air Force Reserve. Recalling him to Active Duty.

Jason needed him. Lois needed him or…at least he hoped she did. The paper needed him. He needed Lois and Jason and work and his new friendship with Clark. But his father's Agency had reached down into his life through the Air Force, and because his name was still on a list, called the Individual Ready Reserve, somewhere in the Department of Defence, Richard had been plucked out of his life and given an Assignment.

Richard had thought the book was closed on his own military past. But it was only a chapter that was closed. A new one was starting in a very cold and impersonal way: with an email attachment.

**WHITE, RICHARD MAJ/O-4**

**302 RIVERSIDE DRIVE**

**METROPOLIS**

**REASSGNED IN THE AIR FORCE RESERVE AS FOLLOWS: FULL TIME STATUS **

**WITH 160TH SPECIAL OPERATIONS AVIATION REGIMENT**

**EFFECTIVE DATE: 14 NOV 2006**

This sort of thing was supposed to happen to Kyle Rayner, his old wingman who went back into the Reserves. Not to Richard. He hadn't done anything with the Air Force since he got off of active duty after the First Persian Gulf War. He let go of his father who had disappeared first into his military career and then into the Agency. He walked away from the military that had taken his father. He embraced a new life with journalism, the Daily Planet and Uncle Perry. Why were they calling Richard?

Richard reread the "reassigned" line: **160TH SPECIAL OPERATIONS AVIATION REGIMENT. **Special Operations. His father's Agency. He didn't even know if the man was alive or dead and his agency is pulling strings in Richard's life. Richard could either take this root of bitterness back into his heart: let it poison his work, his relationships, his whole life, or he could let it go and keep moving forward. Richard chose to retain power over his own life, not give it away to those who hurt him by holding on to bitterness. He chose to move forward.

How would he tell Lois, Jason, everyone?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Much like Richard, I have been plucked from my life of teaching high school math, visiting with my son, and helping to lead my congregation. The U. S. Army has recalled me to active duty. I, personally, would rather help finish the Terrorism War with victory, than to cower in the shadows or to stick my head in the sand and pretend that the problem will go away while passing it on to my son's generation. All of you out there can make whatever choices you want to make, say and think what ever you want to say or think. As Voltaire once wrote in the mid 1700s, "While I may not agree with what you say, I will defend -- with my own life -- your right to say it." I don't judge anyone too harshly for what they do or say as long as it comes from sincerely held beliefs and as long they respect everyone else's right to do the same. Please don't judge me for the choices my sincerely held beliefs lead me to make. Thank you for your support and readership.


	6. A Reunion

A pick up truck sat outside the entrance to the Kowachee Caves in rural Lowell County Kansas. It was a late nineteen-seventies Ford and an older gent lay asleep in the front seat. The older gent was a Kent neighbor named Ben. And Martha's chosen companion these last several years.

Seventy-three miles above Smallville a very strange manmade satellite orbited. It was just at the edge of the atmosphere where only the thinnest wisps of air blew by. But blow-by they did and this satellite was slowing the tinniest little bit every second or two and eventually it could fall, but this might take days or it could take only a few hours. Even the most advanced computer simulations run on the most powerful parallel processing supercomputers on the planet could not have made a better prediction than this. It was truly a manmade satellite. The figure had been grown in a lab. One of Lex Luthor's labs.

The figure wore a curious combination of uniforms: Over the top was a cheap costume shop imitation of a Batman cape and cowl; underneath was a very old version of the Superman uniform. It just hung there in the thin wisps of the sky. It's face was oddly angular and strangely textured. Like it wasn't completely formed.

It was a Bizarro clone and its powers had exhausted while it was hanging up there in the wisp of the sky over Smallville. It hung there hoping for sunlight to recharge the powers so it could fly away before gravity dragged it down in flames. It hung there hoping the cold of space would somehow leach away the burning heat from inside his gut, before that heat consumed him and transformed him into ash. The clone didn't know what would happen to it either. It just didn't want to die.

On the Fortress side of the Portal in the cave, a sort of family reunion was taking place.

A part of Jor-El was watching Jason sleep. The part of Jor-El that had awakened within Lionel Luthor a few short hours before watched Jason sleep from across the fortress where he talked with Martha.

"Jor-El?" Martha asked. "Is that you?" She stood, not far from Jor-El, looking up into his face.

"Yes, Martha Kent," Jor-El stood still and spoke quietly, though his voice carried clearly in the still air of the Fortress. "I am Jor-El."

"How is this possible?" Martha stretched out a hand toward Jor-El.

Jor-El started to take a step back. "I am not completely certain. I do however believe that my son; no, excuse me." He took a step closer to Martha. "I believe that our son enabled my re-emergence during his visit to the remnants of my world."

Martha curled the fingers of her hand slightly. "Why are you only in Lionel's body." The first knuckles of her fingers brushed against Lionel's beard. "Why aren't you also here as a voice or an image?" She lowered her hand.

Jor-El inched back, giving each of them a bit of space. "The AI personality construct that governs this Fortress of Knowledge and Solitude was designed --" Jor-El stopped and turned toward the Portal. He looked at it for a moment and started to turn away. But then it shimmered. Superman and Cassiopeia, the Amazing Amazon, stepped through.

Jor-El stepped toward them and Martha turned toward the Portal as well. "Clark." They both spoke in unison.

"Chloe, oh," Martha said.

"Ms. Sullivan." Jor-El and Martha inquired after Chloe. She looked worse than she was. The four talked for a few moments about Chloe and her most recent brush with Death.

Then the conversation turned to Jor-El and how he'd returned. Finally, it returned to Kal-El and Cassiopeia.

"My son, my precious Kal-El," Jor-El began, "I see that you have brought a woman here, one who has gone to the ends of the earth to gain powers of her own and join you in your great work to benefit mankind."

"Yes, sir, your imminence," Cassiopeia (aka Chloe) replied. "I surely have."

"We-, well, Chloe here, she's my friend," Clark spoke to Jor-El, "my good and loyal friend, probably my best, no definitely my best friend, but this is all a little quick for me. I'm still getting used to the fact that in the five months or so of ship time that I was gone to Krypton and back, over five years passed back here on earth. My son was carried to term, birthed and began to grow up into a fine lad. I'm still adjusting to all the changes in my world since I've been gone."

Superman turned to the Amazing Amazon, "Chloe, you are my good and dear friend. I told you years ago, that you meant more to me than you knew. You mean more –"

"My son, I must tell you something, for this vessel is aging by human standards and quite frail by Kryptonian standards. I have not much time left in this vessel and there is extremely vital work to be done, soon. It must be done soon. Lionel cannot contain me for very much longer. Already, I am beginning to lose small bits and pieces of myself. Perhaps you have noticed changes in my speech. I have noticed a merger of some of our memories.

"But first I must tell you something. I must tell you in the flesh." Jor-El's breathing quickened and grew shallow. His voice grew small and he sat down on a crystal ledge.

"Father, are you okay?" Kal-El blurred across the room to the side of his father. Cassiopeia and Martha both did double and triple takes looking from the air that had just moments ago been filed with Superman, to each other, to where he stood now at Jor-El/ Lionel's side.

"I will be. My son. I will be a-okay, soon." The older man reached up to take the hand of the Last Son of Krypton and motioned for the newest Amazon to join them. "You can come over, too. Mrs. Kent. If you like." Cassiopeia joined them and Jor-El turned back to Superman.

"Clark. Son. It was never my intent for you to give up your powers as you did years ago. I thought that when presented with that dichotomy, you would at once see it for the false choice that it was. I thought that you would immediately realize that a mortal woman who would join you in your never ending battle for truth and justice could indeed be your mate, your…wife. You were supposed to say something like 'Father, can't she join me in my quest?' And then Miss Lane would of course have piped up with something like, 'Why yes, yes of course.'

Jor-El continued, "But you and she have each made your own choices. And now…"he paused and breathed hard. "Now you must adjust, we must all adjust, to another man raising your son. Chloe is a fine woman, Clark, truly a wonderful woman and an Amazing Amazon, son. She will be a true partner for you in every sense of the word. In all your endeavors.

"You must help me." Jor-El slumped over. "You must all help me. Do you have the transference crystal, Clark?"

"Father what are you planning?"


	7. Kal did what on the trip to Krypton?

DISCLAIMER: This story is based upon Characters and Situations created and owned by Siegal and Schuster, DC Comics, Bad Hat Harry Productions, Warner Bros, Richard Donner. I'm not making any money from it. Yet.

It was late Sunday night in Metropolis. Lois Lane sat behind the antique Louis XIV desk in her room at the Amazon Consulate. She had finally taken Crown Princess Diana up on the spa weekend she had offered to Lois quite a while ago. But despite relaxing steam baths and luxurious massages, Lois's anger at Superman had gotten the best of her. He had hypnotically hidden her memories of their romance nearly seven years ago at Niagra Falls and the Fortress. When she had recalled them after the Pulitzer Ceremony on Thursday, she'd taken an emotional rollercoaster ride into denial and anger. Here at the Consulate the last day or so, she'd spent as much time in the martial arts dojo practicing her aikido and working out her anger as she had in any of the spa treatments.

After dinner, she'd sat in this room seething at Superman wondering why he had stolen the memories of their romance and why he had left the Earth. Finally, she had found some perspective realizing that with Clark/ Superman gone for five years, she was better off able to start fresh with Richard, without the missing memories.

She remembered that before Zod had arrived on Earth, Superman had argued with his father, Jor-El, and given up his powers with the intent of living out the rest of his life as her mortal husband.

Maybe the spaceship pilgrimage to Krypton had been to restore his powers? No, that didn't track. He'd fought that huge battle with Zod and his acolytes in the skies above Metropolis _before_ he left for Krypton. How did he get his powers back during that missing four days? What had it cost, besides a walk back across the frozen tundra? And who had paid that cost?

Now there was a story!

There indeed was a story! one that Kal-El and Jor-El would discuss in just a few moments. When Jason had been attacked in Smallville, Jor-El had awakened within the mind of Lionel Luthor and temporarily invested Lionel's body with Kryptonian powers. Jor-El had called for the help of the sector's Green Lantern Corps Officer: Abin Sur the last he'd known for sure, but that had been a long time ago. Assistance had instead arrived in the form of a beautiful and capable Amazon. The Amazon, Cassiopeia (a.k.a. Chloe Sullivan), had held off the attacker long enough for Jor-El to get Jason and Martha through the portal in the Kowatchee caves and up to the Fortress.

The exercise of jumping and lifting during the escape from the Bizarro's attack on the Kent farmhouse caught up with Jason soon after the group had arrived at the Fortress, and he fell asleep. Jor-El and Martha took advantage of the opportunity to talk. Suddenly Kal-El and Cassiopeia emerged through the portal.

Kal-El saw his mother standing there with Lionel Luthor. Then he was that Lionel wore the same silvery robe with the same black Crest of the House of El that Jor-El had worn in the final images from the Fortress, when he his father had restored his powers before he'd flown off to confront Zod and the Acolytes in the skies over Metropolis about six years before. Kal recognized subtle cues in the way the man wearing the Kryptonian robes stood: his calm, determined, regal bearing, his countenance of love, wisdom, patience and kindness. Kal-El knew that he was looking at his father, Jor-El, in Lionel Luthor's body as he had over a decade ago when Jor-El had brought him back from death's doorstep a few months after the second meteor shower. "Kal-El, my son, it is very pleasing to see you again with my own eyes." Lionel's voice spoke in Jor-El's tone and Kal snapped back into the present moment. "Why do you wear a black trench coat and black sunglasses instead of your Kryptonian uniform?"

"A problem with trust." Kal removed the sunglasses and looked into Jor-El's face. "Or a betrayal of trust." He looked down."

"Ah, yes." Jor-El sounded more like Lionel this time, "The very large, very strong person made in a distorted version of your image, his actions caused the people to fear you. And, so you took on the guise of another hero known as Neo or The One."

"Just so." Kal-El replied looking up and away. Then he turned faced Jor-El again, "Father, is it you?"

"It feels like me, my son." Jor-El paused for breath. "You did it then?"

"I followed the instructions in the prime crystal." Kal answered. "I made the pilgrimage across the stars. I journeyed back to Krypton, to Temple of the Elders in the Valley of the Ancestors, yes Father. I offered the prayers and made the atonement.

"I climbed 10,000 meters up an airless husk of rock and dirt. That airless husk, was all that remained of the once majestic Valley of the Ancestors after the nova of our sun shattered our homeworld. I climbed hand by hand and foot by foot under the dwarf star remnants of our red sun, fighting vertigo the whole way. I could feel the red dwarf starlight draining my powers slowly, but I didn't need them for what I was doing just then. Weight wasn't an issue on that tiny, airless remnant of a world; neither was flight or any of my enhanced senses.

"Finally, I reached the Temple. I offered the prayers in the silence of vacuum, in the harsh light and razor sharp shadows of that once magnificent globe. I made the atonement. It was not easy Father, but I did it gladly, and I would do it for you again."

"Thank you, my son." Jor-El gave a slight bow and recovered rather more slowly than he had planned. "Even as I saved you in this very place, investing in you the final energies left to me, so now you have saved me by offering the atonement to redeem my sacrifice and enabling me to continue my journey in this mortal realm."

And then Kal-El and Jor-El spoke of past and future, of women and choices and decisions, of a partnership made and broken and transformed and of another partnership renewed. And when the relative frailty of Lionel's body caught up with Jor-El, he called for the transference crystal.

"Father, what are you planning?" Kal-El looked rather sheepish and Clark-like as he posed that question. "What on Earth and Krypton do you propose to do with the transference crystal?"

"My son, my precious Kal-El," Jor-El reached out with his left hand and touched Kal's cheek, then he placed it firmly on Kal's right shoulder and took his right hand in a firm handshake, like Lionel used to do years ago. "I have not much time left to me in this mortal coil. Lionel's memories and mine are already bleeding over into each other." Jor-El paused to breathe.

"Father! We'll find you a transfer." Kal-El spun around desperation on his face. "Father I didn't traverse over 120 light years, make the atonement, and get you back-- only to lose you again in less than a day."

"Where will you transfer me?" Jor-El smiled serenely. "Will you transfer me into one of the clones that tried to take Jason away?"

Kal-El looked lost for a moment. Then an idea struck him and his face lit up. "Father, the Fortress created a clone of Mother some years ago, from a sample that came from Zor-El. Surely the methods for doing that are recorded in the systems. The clone of Mother was created literally before my eyes in minutes, not months or years. We could use the same method to create a clone of me. You could transfer yourself there."

Jor-El explained patiently, "Zor-El's sample also contained recording of your mother's mind, a holographic photo of her consciousness, if you will. This record of her mind assisted in forming the clone. This is why the clone grew so quickly. This is why it possessed all of her memories and most of her personality. We could not use a recording of your mind in such a fashion, else I would have to displace you from your clone.

"We are out of time, son." Jor-El explained patiently. "If I stay in this body too much longer, I will be trimming his life by years instead of hours, and Lionel Luthor does not have that many years left. I have to move now."

"The Fortress AI," both men said together.

"It possesses all of my knowledge." Jor-El confirmed

"And hundreds of hours of recordings you made for me, trying to anticipate all my questions and needs." Kal-El added. "That knowledge and those recordings could stabilize your personality and hold you together."

"It would also get your systems back up and running." Chloe spoke up for the first time. "Come on we have to move quickly."

After talking to Chloe, Lois's next call was to Richard. She had blown off six or seven calls from him over the last day and a half, but he was Jason's daddy and he loved them both. She apologized for taking her "Superman: Murderer" article to the Inquisitor. Richard had been right to uphold the journalistic integrity of the Planet, insisting on checking alibis and digging deeper. Now that Jason had told her about the "Bizarro" Clark look-a-like with superpowers, she felt doubtful about her article. The same _thing_, whatever it was, that had chased Jason in Smallville could have hurt those police officers and that poor, young mother here in Metropolis.

Before she even asked, Richard insisted on flying them both to Smallville. They'd have to land in Crater Lake and get a ride. Lois felt sure she remembered enough contacts from her own time there during her days working for Kansas State Senator Martha Kent that she could get a discrete ride out to the Kent farmhouse. Of course this flight would take longer than Chloe's had in the Amazon invisible jet that flew more than four times faster than sound.

During the flight Richard told Lois about getting mobilized in the US Air Force Reserve. He'd been recalled to active duty through Special Operations, his father's agency. Lois asked when he'd be going and where. Richard was vague on both. He had about a month before he had to report, but he couldn't say definitely where he'd be going. He didn't tell Lois that had tried to call Kyle Rayner, his former wingman from the first Persian Gulf War. Richard see if Kyle could get his orders changed. Kyle wasn't answering his phone either.


	8. Green Lantern vs Steel

Disclaimer: Form the shoulders of giants like Siegal, Shuster, Donner, Gough, Millar, and Singer you can see into the Trust AU.

A/N – We've completed our pre-deployment training. Now we wait for the Army to decide fly us over. I will have some time on my hands for the next couple of weeks, so I might finish this story.

--X--

Hearing his son stir, Kal-El zipped across the Fortress, black trench coat flapping behind him, and hovered over him. He smiled over the lad saying the traditional Kryptonain blessing over him quietly. Jason White woke amid the grey and white crystal of the Fortress and looked around wide eyed. His lips opened, but his tongue found no words. When he looked up, into his father's face, Jason brightened. "Father," he reached out with both arms open to hug Kal-El.

Suddenly his face clouded with concern, Jason pushed back to arm's length and found some words, "Grandma Martha and Mr. Ben, are they okay? And Grandfather, Jor-El, where did he go? And where were you when the huge bizarre man-thing that looked you in a Dracula costume but wasn't tried to take me away to the Bad Bald Man. Why didn't you save us? Isn't that what you're meant to do? You're Superman! And why are you dressed like Neo from the Matrix?" A flood of emotion tumbled out of the young lad along with his words: first concern for his Grandma's well-being, next wonder at Jor-El, then the excitement of the narrow escape from Bat-zarro, followed anger at his father for not saving them, followed at last by wonder again at his father's peculiar choice of uniform. "Hmm?"

Kal-El hovered down and came to rest on the floor with a warm and open smile, a touch of uncertainty in his eyes. "You have many questions my son." Whoa. I sound like Jor-El. "You're already developing a newsman's nose for stories."

"What's a newsman?" Jason asked with the innocent wonder of a child in a safe place

Kal-El took a step side ways, moved a hand up toward his chest, palm facing out, pointed his index finger straight up in the air and answered, "That's what your uncle Perry calls reporters, like your mom and your daddy."

"Oh. So." Jason sat up and turned sideways dangling his feet off the white futon where he'd been resting. "What about some answers?"

"Grandma Martha and Mr. Ben are fine. Grandfather Jor-El will be here shortly. And under the long coat, is my black space travel uniform," Kal replied directly.

"Wwoooowww!" Jason leaped off the futon and hung in the air for just an instant longer than a human six year old would have. He spread his arms to the sky in excitement and exclaimed, "You were in space! Dija go to tha Moon?"

"No," Kal chuckled, "I was father away than that. I got here as soon as I knew I was needed. Even I can only be in one place at a time. That's why my friends, like your Aunt Chloe and family, like Grandfather Jor-El, cover for me when I have to go away."

Making an intuitive step, Jason asked, "And Mr. Steel, is he your friend, too?" He glimpsed momentary puzzlement in his father's eyes and added, "He's ten feet tall in his armored suit that looks like steel of course, and he wears a deep blue cape and he has an "S" on his chest, too; but it's not in a triangle thingy like yours."

Kal squatted down to his son's eye level and looked into his eyes. "I haven't actually met Mr. Steel yet," He took his son's hand. They walked toward the central chamber, "but I'm sure he must be a very nice gentleman, if he wears an 'S' on his chest."

--X--

Clang!!! Steel's Kinetic Hammer slammed into Green Lantern's force field an inch away from his shoulder and bounced back. Steel's amplified voice boomed, "Where were you the Day the Towers Fell?"

The Bizarro clone had burned itself out in upstate New York, in the 10th Mountain Division's training area. The wounded had been evacuated to hospitals and dead taken to the morgue. The Army had thanked the Bat, the Martian, the Space Cop and Steel and taken over the remainder of the cleanup. In the aftermath of battle, tempers flared.

The sound of a grunt came from deep within the armored steel exo-suit. Pistons under the arms extended and a turret at the waist swiveled as Steel wound up and took another mighty swing, aiming for the Emerald Squire's left knee. "Is Space Sector 2814 too big for you to pay attention to your home planet?" Steel shouted. GL stood his ground and moved his left hand in a downward arc toward his waist. The force field extended out from his forearm to parry the blow away.

Steel maneuvered his Hammer around for one final swing, this one streaking around from the opposite side toward the rookie hero's head. "Do you have any idea how--" Calmly, the Space Cop reached up, again with his left hand, moving the rest of his body very little, and grabbed the Hammer. GL's force field shimmered green around the Hammer. The Emerald Squire held the Hammer still, silently allowing the senior hero to finish his question. "—how hard it is to try and stop a fully loaded and fueled 757 jumbo jet from crashing into a building, with only a pair of magnetic levitation flight boots and this mechanical exo-suit?"

Green Lantern opened his hand so Steel could take back his Hammer. The Hammer's shaft telescoped out and Steel planted it on the ground. The red-caped hero sagged for just a moment, the fight apparently draining out of him, through the Hammer, into the ground. Then he straightened back up and pointed his face plate down at the Space Cop. He seemed to be glowering. "Well?"

"No, I don't know what it's like to try and single-handedly avert a tragedy." Green Lantern answered. "I've always worked as a part of a team." He waited until he thought he had Steel's attention (but how could you tell, with that face plate?). "And I was right here on 11 September 2001, in the U.S.A. I wasn't a member of the Green Lantern Interstellar Corps then. That morning I was on my laptop logged into the Edwards Air Force Base training mainframe, finalizing training plans for an Air Force Reserve weekend drill."

"You're in the military?" A deep voice resonated surprise from within the armored suit.

"What can I say? My other car is an F-15E Strike Eagle." GL powered down the force field to a faint shimmer just around himself. "In my other life, I'm an Air Force Reserve fighter pilot."

"He does not deserve this." The deep quite voice of the Martian Manhunter instantly commanded attention.

A gravelly voice drifted out of the shadows nearby where Batman had been watching. "It's really directed at the other guy with an 'S' on his chest." He perched in tree, looking more like a gargoyle from a Gotham skyscraper, than something at home in the woods.

The Martian continued, "Now that we have dealt with this 'Bizarro' clone of him, we should have the courage to take it up with him, personally."

Now the gravelly voice came from the ground, near a boulder behind Steel. "He should be back from his offworld mission with that asteroid by now. Where is he, Lantern?"

--X--

"Where are they?" Richard White asked rhetorically as he and Lois Lane surveyed the damage to the Kent farmhouse from outside the yellow crime scene tape. The lights in the farmhouse were on but nobody was home, unless you counted the Sheriff, three Deputies and a Crime Scene Analysis unit from the Kansas State Police.


	9. Crime Scene: Smallville

Disclaimer -- As Lewis and Clark explored the uncharted Louisiana Purchase with Sacajawea as their guide, so I too explore the uncharted lands of imagination with Siegal, Shuster, Donner, Millar, Gough and Singer as my guides. I humbly invite you, the reader, to join me.

The lights were on at the Kent farmhouse but no one was home, unless you counted the Sheriff, two Deputies and a Crime Scene Analysis Unit from the Kansas State Bureau of Investigation. Lois Lane had spent a lot of time on the Kent farm years ago. Lois had worked for Martha Kent when she took her husband's seat in the State Senate after his heart finally gave out and before that for Jonathan during his campaign. Before that, she had even lived in the farm house for a few months while Clark was a senior at Smallville High. Clark had protested sleeping on the couch and she had protested the dog Shelby, but each had survived. Anyway, she believed that knew what this farm should look like. And cracked tree limbs, smashed out windows, and blasted doorframes aside, Lois could look at the way the shadows moved inside and know that none of them was Martha, Jason or Clark.

Lois turned to her fiancé Richard White to say, "They're not here, let's go." But Richard wasn't there next to her. Richard stood a couple of steps away leaning in through the back window of the cab paying the cab driver and sending him away. Next to his feet on the dusty country road were both of their "go bags," containing laptop computers, changes of clothes and toiletry items. She started to complain at him for sending the cabbie away too soon, but Richard had just spent half the night flying her a thousand miles in to the heartland on barely a moment's notice. He deserved better. "Richard," she called, too loudly in the stillness of the predawn grey.

Lois's voice carried past the yellow crime scene tape, down the gavel driveway and into the open window of the Lowell County Sheriffs car parked there, running. Inside the car, a Deputy, who may have been dozing or may have been watching his iPod, bolted upright at the sound of her voice. He looked slightly guilty.

As the cab rumbled away in the still air, Richard turned around and smiled at the love of his life, Lois Lane. "Hey, this would feel like we were chasing a story together, if we weren't chasing our son."

"They're not here." She said simply.

"Where are they?" Richard asked rhetorically as he and Lois surveyed the damage to the Kent farmhouse from the yellow crime scene tape. Then they looked at each other, chuckled and looked back at the Sheriffs car, as they noticed the Deputy glancing around furtively and fixing on the Sheriff. He sagged in relief when he looked back down the driveway and saw her looking at the ground, examining tire tracks with the state crime lab guys.

"He looks like the kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar." Richard commented. They both chuckled some more. The break in tension felt good to both of them.

"I bet he's the one in charge of the entry list." Lois remarked as she reached over and entwined her fingers with Richard's. The Deputy smoothed out his uniform and exited the car. "Maybe not," she observed. Then he had to open the door again and grab the clip board.

"I guess so." Richard replied and ran his free hand over his face, trying to hide his laughter. "We should wipe the smiles off our faces and try to show some respect."

"…To Deputy Dawg over there." Lois twisted sideways slightly and laughed behind Richard's shoulder.

The Deputy walked up to Lois and Richard, "Something funny folks?" he asked in a slightly belligerent tone.

"We're just breaking the tension. It's been a long night flying here from Metropolis, especially for him." Lois said, flashing the Deputy her 500 Watt smile. He certainly didn't rate the 1000 Watt smile.

The Deputy relaxed a bit, "See some ID, please?"

Blearily, Richard reached into his jacket pocket and pulled his drivers' license out of his wallet. Lois, who had slept during the first part of the flight, was a bit more alert and handed the Deputy her Press Pass. Taking both IDs, the Deputy stepped backward a few steps almost to the front of his police car. He made some notes on his clipboard and then reached up with his writing hand to key the mic on his other shoulder. Neither Richard nor Lois could hear what he said.

Sheriff Adams detached herself from where the Crime Scene team was finishing up with the window frame pieces, glass fragments and tire tracks. She made her way up to the end of the drive. "It's not too often that the Daily Planet beats the Smallville Ledger to a story out here in Lowell County." Handing over the IDs, the Deputy retreated to his car.

Lois began to stammer about the flight in the sea plane and her son. With a gentle touch on the arm, Richard quieted her. He turned to the Sheriff, "She's had a strenuous evening. We both have, because I was the one flying that airplane she was talking about. But we came here on a tip from Superman."

"Superman? I thought all you big city media types had turned your backs on him." The Sheriff looked very sternly at Lois Lane. "You didn't think anyone out here read the Inquisitor did you, kiddo?"

"Ma'am, we at the Daily Planet," Richard gestured to include both himself and Lois, "prefer not to go with a story until we have all the facts."

"Good thing, too," Sheriff Adams handed back the IDs, "'cause out here in middle America we still believe in our heroes; even if they're wearing black trench coats and sunglasses instead of crimson capes and blue uniforms."

"So, where might we find the Widow Kent?"

"Well, judging from these here tire tracks," the Sheriff took a laser pointer off of her belt and sketched the outline of the tire tracks left as Martha, Jason and Ben had fled in the Ben's pickup "they headed out toward the Kowachee Caves. I have to go out there to check on my people, they haven't found very much. I could give you folks a ride, but only one of you can sit up front."

--x--

Back up north in the Fortress, Lionel Luthor awoke. He sat up and hugged himself against the chill. Glancing across the small crystal side-chamber, he found a dark suit with a cream shirt and penny loafers. Noting absently that this pair of shoes had dimes where the pennies usually went, he thought that they might actually be his own shoes. Looking and listening around as he dressed, he oriented himself and prepared to take the advantage.

Cufflinks buttoned and tie straightened, he stepped confidently out of the side chamber into the vast main chamber and the enormity of the situation struck him. He had gone to sleep in his own bed in Luthor Mansion outside Smallville and awoken in this vast crystal Fortress. Across the chamber, he saw an elegant if tired Martha Kent and a slightly beleaguered Amazon in full battle dress talking quietly. "I forgot how vast this place is." Lionel commented.

"So have I, Lionel, I haven't been here in many years." Martha replied gently.

The Amazon behind Martha shifted her weight into a fighting stance and the look on her face reminded Lionel of the defiance the young Miss Sullivan had shown in some of their earlier dealings back in the months before and weeks after Dark Thursday. "Am I here because of Jor-El?" he asked simply.

"Yes," Martha replied. She didn't volunteer anything further.

"I thought I felt him stirring in my subconscious for many months, now. Is Clark alright? The news about him has been terrible the last several days, until last night. And I just don't know what to make of it." Lionel suddenly felt his age. "I need to get home."

"I drive out to the Mansion for Tea this afternoon and you and I can sort through this." Martha reassured him. After I sort through it with Ben, she thought but did not say.

The Amazon quietly helped them both over to the portal. Martha turned to Lionel, "This portal will take you to the Kowachee Caves, on the other side of Smallville from Luthor Mansion. I hope Clark picked up your phone along with the clothes, so that you can send for a car."

Lionel felt in the pockets of his suit coat and pulled it out. He smiled. "Clark is always so considerate."

--x-x--

Sheriff Rachel Adams released her Deputies from the Kowachee Caves. They hadn't found anything other than the disassembled road sign. The sign itself was sticking out of the black top and the pole was lying neatly next to it. Blood samples had been collected from the pole and the improved road shoulder and finger prints from the sign and the pole. But there wasn't enough blood to warrant calling the State boys over here, especially with perp and victim both gone. She puzzled over it quietly as the Whites gathered their bags from the back seat of her police car.

"Hello, hello, who is out there?" a small voice called from down inside the main cavern.

"Stay back, you two," Sheriff Adams gestured to Lois and Richard as she called for back up and took her flash light and her service weapon off her pistol belt. Shining her light and aiming her weapon, the Sheriff advanced cautiously into the mouth of the cave. "Is that you, Mr. Lionel?"

"Yes, Sheriff, thank Heaven you're here, ma'am." Lionel took a step back to sure footing and straightened up, smiling. "But you're too late," he pointed toward the other entrance to the caves. "I'm afraid they've gone."

"Who's that, sir?" the Sheriff asked with a mixture of suspicion and indulgence in her tone. She lowered her weapon and aimed the light at the roof of the cave where it provided some illumination for both of them.

"Why, whoever brought me down here of course. I haven't been known to suffer from somnambulism. Perhaps I should see my doctor about changing my sleep aid." Lionel could play the doddering fool as the sun's rays cracked over the horizon. He'd played blind years ago. "Could we keep this out of the papers, please."

"Just between you and me, Mr. Lionel, sure, but I think that might actually be up to these two reporters from your newspaper." She gestured to Richard and Lois.

"It's okay, Mr. Luthor," called Lois. "I don't think the Gossip Column is my beat." She glanced at Richard as though to confirm she hadn't been bumped down from the City Beat.

Richard smiled shouldering his pack and Lois's. "Actually, Mr. Luthor, if it's all the same to you, we weren't here, either."

--x-x-x--

Back at the Fortress, Jason asked politely, "Father could we please wait for the naming ceremony, until Mommy and Daddy can get here." Turning to his grandma, the lad added, "He flies a plane, you know."


	10. After Jason's Naming Ceremony

Disclaimer -- From the Shoulders of Giants like Siegal, Shuster, Donner and Singer, you can see into the Trust AU

A/N -- I know that I hinted I would finish this story for you guys. I haven't exactly done that. I was seized with another inspiration. I created the Crusader AU over on the TV/ Terminator-Sarah Connor Chronicles board. That is some of the best work I have produced yet. Lots of angst and unrequited emotions. You guys will love it. Anyway, I putting my characters in final positions here in the Trust AU in case this place has to go into hibernation for a while.

Final Positions

The holograms powered down as the AI representations of Jor-El and Lara took their leave. Jason and Kal-El floated hand in hand down off the grey and sliver colored crystal dais in the center of the main chamber of the Fortress. Kal set his son down and floated back over to talk with Chloe, decked out in battle scared Amazon regalia. She looked a touch worse for wear following her near death experience at the hands of one of the Bizarro Clones. The lad on the other hand skipped excitedly across the floor to where his Mommy and Daddy stood.

Lois and Richard scooped him up together and passed him back and forth exchanging hugs. They ooh'd and aah'd excitedly over his silver Kryptonian cloak. "An' it has the crest of the House of El on it, too." He kicked his legs gently signaling that he wanted to be put back down.

"Like your father," said Lois.

"Yeah, but exactly like Grandfather Jor-El. Did you see Mommy? Did you see Daddy? Grandfather's image wore a cloak just like mine!!" Jason danced around excitedly reveling in his newly confirmed Kryptonian heritage.

Martha walked over to Richard as Jason filled his mother in on the evenings adventures. "We haven't been formally introduced, I'm Martha Kent. My late husband Jonathan and I raised Clark," she gestured over to Kal (still clad in his trench coat and space travel uniform, resembling Neo from the Matrix) "in Smallville, Kansas from the time he was about three."

"Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Kent. You must be extremely proud of your son."

"Well, of course, what mother wouldn't be proud of a son who grew up to help save America from the rampaging superpowered clones and killer asteroids, even if he did dress as Neo to do it. But, really, I'm more proud of his newspapering and bestselling books, than I am of anything he did with his powers. His writing is a testament to his humanity, and that he got from his dad and me."

Richard took stock of the group quickly in an effort to gauge how soon to try to leave. He saw the Amazon, whom he was ridiculously glad to have back among the living and on staff at the Planet, punch Kal in the shoulder with a dark look on her face. He saw his son Jason drooping on his mother's shoulder. The evening's excitement was catching up to Martha as well.

Recalling the damage to the Kent farmhouse, Richard knew that they all still had miles to go before they slept. Judging from the farmhouse damage and the disassembled road sign back in Kansas that looked like it had impaled someone, he decided that there was a publishable story back in Smallville. He could put a hotel room or two on his Planet expense account and justify it to the bean counters. He was about to call out to Lois, when a booming voice spoke first.

"Kal-El, my son" it was Jor-El's voice, "we have incoming. We must get the guests out through the Portal soonest."

"Alright, friends and family of the House of El," Kal spoke in a tone that was at once reassuring and commanding, "those of you without a full set of superpowers need to leave at once. Chloe, please help my mother to the portal. Richard, I will gather everyone's personal items, if you get the Lois and Jason out."

Kal immediately blurred around the Fortress gathering Jason's clothes, his mother's purse, Richard and Lois's go-bags, etc. Chloe got Martha through the portal and Richard followed with Lois and Jason. Everyone's items were neatly laid out on the cavern floor outside the portal when they stepped back though into the Kowachee Caves in Kansas.

The incoming turned out to be the Martian, the Bat, the Space Cop and Steel. Many of them appeared to have a bone to pick with Kal-El. Steel wanted to know why Superman wasn't on Earth to help when the airplanes hit the buildings in New York City and Washington, DC on September 11th 2001. The Bat wanted to know why Superman had allowed his blood sample to be stolen and used to grow the Bizarros. The Amazon demanded of all of them why they had sent her off to fight one of the Bizarros all by herself in Smallville. She ended up crying and pounding on Kal's chest, "You left me to die! That thing rammed a sign pole through my chest!! If Lantern-boy here hadn't given me the lapel pin from the gods, I would be dead. DEAD. FOR REAL THIS TIME!!"

While Kal wrapped his arms around Chloe and patted her on the back, somewhat awkwardly, Batman stepped away from the group. Pressing two fingers against his cowl about where his right ear should have been, he appeared to be listening and sub-vocalizing. When the call was over he declared firmly, "Alright, people, my forensic team has determined the location of the genetic engineering lab that created the Bizarros."

Then J'onn J'onzz spoke up, "All of us here are meant to be on Champions of Justice, so we must lay aside our differences for long enough to deal with the threat of the Bizarros."

Working off a time hack, the six heroes penetrated the lab at the same time. They found it empty, stripped back to the walls. Kal-El and the Amazing Amazon looked at each other and said, "Thirty-three point one."


End file.
